Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 7
Page 3
LETTER II
MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWETHURSDAY, JULY 13.
I am extremely concerned, my dear Miss Howe, for being primarily theoccasion of the apprehensions you have of this wicked man's vindictiveattempts. What a wide-spreading error is mine!----
If I find that he has set foot on any machination against you, or againstMr. Hickman, I do assure you I will consent to prosecute him, although Iwere sure I could not survive my first appearance at the bar he should bearraigned at.
I own the justice of your mother's arguments on that subject; but mustsay, that I think there are circumstances in my particular case, whichwill excuse me, although on a slighter occasion than that you areapprehensive of I should decline to appear against him. I have said,that I may one day enter more particularly into this argument.
Your messenger has now indeed seen me. I talked with him on the cheatput upon him at Hampstead: and am sorry to have reason to say, that hadnot the poor young man been very simple, and very self-sufficient, he hadnot been so grossly deluded. Mrs. Bevis has the same plea to make forherself. A good-natured, thoughtless woman; not used to converse with sovile and so specious a deceiver as him, who made his advantage of boththese shallow creatures.
I think I cannot be more private than where I am. I hope I am safe. Allthe risque I run, is in going out, and returning from morning-prayers;which I have two or three times ventured to do; once at Lincoln's-innchapel, at eleven; once at St. Dunstan's, Fleet-street, at seven in themorning,* in a chair both times; and twice, at six in the morning, at theneighbouring church in Covent-garden. The wicked wretches I have escapedfrom, will not, I hope, come to church to look for me; especially at soearly prayers; and I have fixed upon the privatest pew in the latterchurch to hide myself in; and perhaps I may lay out a little matter in anordinary gown, by way of disguise; my face half hid by my mob.--I am verycareless, my dear, of my appearance now. Neat and clean takes up thewhole of my attention.
* The seven-o'clock prayers at St. Dunstan's have been sincediscontinued.
The man's name at whose house I belong, is Smith--a glove maker, as wellas seller. His wife is the shop-keeper. A dealer also in stockings,ribbands, snuff, and perfumes. A matron-like woman, plain-hearted, andprudent. The husband an honest, industrious man. And they live in goodunderstanding with each other: a proof with me that their hearts areright; for where a married couple live together upon ill terms, it is asign, I think, that each knows something amiss of the other, either withregard to temper or morals, which if the world knew as well asthemselves, it would perhaps as little like them as such people like eachother. Happy the marriage, where neither man nor wife has any wilful orpremeditated evil in their general conduct to reproach the other with!--for even persons who have bad hearts will have a veneration for those whohave good ones.
Two neat rooms, with plain, but clean furniture, on the first floor, aremine; one they call the dining-room.
There is, up another pair of stairs, a very worthy widow-lodger, Mrs.Lovick by name; who, although of low fortunes, is much respected, as Mrs.Smith assures me, by people of condition of her acquaintance, for herpiety, prudence, and understanding. With her I propose to be wellacquainted.
I thank you, my dear, for your kind, your seasonable advice andconsolation. I hope I shall have more grace given me than to despond, inthe religious sense of the word: especially as I can apply to myself thecomfort you give me, that neither my will, nor my inconsiderateness, hascontributed to my calamity. But, nevertheless, the irreconcilableness ofmy relations, whom I love with an unabated reverence; my apprehensions offresh violences, [this wicked man, I doubt, will not let me rest]; mybeing destitute of protection; my youth, my sex, my unacquaintedness withthe world, subjecting me to insults; my reflections on the scandal I havegiven, added to the sense of the indignities I have received from a man,of whom I deserved not ill; all together will undoubtedly bring on theeffect that cannot be undesirable to me.--The situation; and, as Ipresume to imagine, from principles which I hope will, in due time, andby due reflection, set me above the sense of all worldly disappointments.
At present, my head is much disordered. I have not indeed enjoyed itwith any degree of clearness, since the violence done to that, and to myheart too, by the wicked arts of the abandoned creatures I was castamong.
I must have more conflicts. At times I find myself not subdued enough tomy condition. I will welcome those conflicts as they come, asprobationary ones.--But yet my father's malediction--the temporary partso strangely and so literally completed!--I cannot, however, think, whenmy mind is strongest--But what is the story of Isaac, and Jacob, andEsau, and of Rebekah's cheating the latter of the blessing designed forhim, (in favour of Jacob,) given us for in the 27th chapter of Genesis?My father used, I remember, to enforce the doctrine deducible from it, onhis children, by many arguments. At least, therefore, he must believethere is great weight in the curse he has announced; and shall I not besolicitous to get it revoked, that he may not hereafter be grieved, formy sake, that he did not revoke it?
All I will at present add, are my thanks to your mother for herindulgence to us; due compliments to Mr. Hickman; and my request, thatyou will believe me to be, to my last hour, and beyond it, if possible,my beloved friend, and my dearer self (for what is now myself!)
Your obliged and affectionateCLARISSA HARLOWE.